


Seeing Ghosts

by Love_you_a_latte



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Mild Language, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Past Relationship(s), Post-Avengers (2012), Slow Burn, Thriller, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:55:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23372770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_you_a_latte/pseuds/Love_you_a_latte
Summary: The Avengers are trying to solve a mysterious murder case with an interesting twist, but Steve Rogers, their captain, can't seem to focus.On the night he learned about the murders, Steve swore he saw Bucky Barnes, decades after his death. But the details are foggy, and the New York City lights have a way of tricking the eyes. Before Steve can react, his best friend disappears, as if he were nothing but a ghost.And yet, something tells Steve that his friend was very, very real.Note: this takes place after the first Avengers movie, and does not follow canon. It will end by following canon, but this part is not in the MCU or Marvel Comics Universe.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 22





	1. yelling at the sky

New York was loud. As usual. People always shouting, horns always honking, and sirens always screaming. It was getting close to Christmas time, but the tinsel-adorned holiday was far enough away that the rush of tourists and gaudy decorations almost large enough to dwarf Stark Tower hadn't quite arrived yet. Still, the festivities had begun, and lights twinkled on every fence, every doorway, every awning. Men in costumes strolled the streets, selling pictures.

Steve stopped on a street corner, taking it all in. Right next to him, police were interrogating a man who slouched on the curb, obviously inebriated. Steve kept his head low, trying not to draw attention to himself. He hoped his simple black jacket, jeans, and winter hat would serve as a decent disguise. The last thing he wanted was someone noticing him. Yet he couldn't help but smile as a man in Captain America dress rushed past, towards the druggie who sat on the curb. When he began talking, it became apparent that the two were friends. The officers refused to hear the Captain America wannabe's excuses, and hauled his friend into the back of their car. Steve almost laughed; it was these sort of things that made Manhattan so worth visiting. It was absolutely wild. The real Captain America crossed the street quickly, and descended under the city block.

The subway was cold. As usual. People were pushing about, some pissing in the corner, some just trying to get the whole experience over with. Steve just kept walking, scanned his card at the turnstiles, and stood ready to board his train when it would choose to appear.

He continued to keep his head low, and avoid eye contact. On some days, he would purposefully act the part of Captain America, just because he liked seeing the faces of fans light up when they noticed him. But today, he was too tired.

Tony had called him so early that he hadn't even gone on his morning run yet. The genius, billionaire, playboy, and philanthropist claimed that it was an emergency. And it certainly was. Seven people had been killed in one night, all at the same hand, with the same gun. They had been shot down by a sniper, some while walking on the street, others while standing alone on their balconies. The president immediately called the Avengers in for assistance.

Tony and Steve had spent hours in an empty conference room on phone calls with various doctors, scientists, and criminology experts, trying to gain insights into the murders. It didn't take them long to realize that the similarity in each case was the blood: they all shared the exact same DNA. And yet, each one looked completely different, and came from a different walk of life. It didn't add up. The story only got more interesting when the thanatology department unlocked their lab in the morning to find the bodies missing, along with all their security cameras. 

There were so many questions swimming around in Steve's head as he boarded the subway, trying to stay focused on just getting home for the night. But when his phone buzzed, and Bruce Banner's name popped up on the screen, he answered the call.

"Hey. I'm on the subway," he answered, keeping his voice low.

"I know. Listen, I just went over the lab results with Tony, and we analyzed every strip of DNA ourselves to make sure the computers weren't going crazy. Sure enough, they're all exact copies of each other."

Steve sucked in a breath.

"So, what do we do now?"

"That's not a question I know how to answer. I wish I did, but... This is all new to me. If the lab had been able to do autopsies, we might have a next step. But for now, we can only go off of what we saw. We know they looked different, but why?"

"You're usually the one with the answers," Steve said wearily, rubbing at his forehead. He was exhausted.

"I know, I know, I just... I can't put my finger on it. Let's say this is some cloning project---why would they kill the people, and let us find the bodies? It's like they wanted us to get curious, but not actually figure anything out. Maybe they hoped that because it was a murder, and poison wasn't suspected, that we wouldn't run a bunch of tests? And then when we did, they had to remove the evidence? I don't know. That's the only theory I have."

The two men stayed on the phone, lost in their own thoughts. The exhaustion in both voices was obvious.

"Dr. Banner, you should really get some sleep. We can deal with this in the morning," Steve sighed, realizing he was only one stop away from where he'd have to get off.

"You know what? You're right. I'm useless if I'm too tired. I'll see you tomorrow, man."

The line went dead, and Steve stuffed his phone into his jacket pocket. He watched the tunnel fly by, waiting. He managed to avoid interaction all the way to his stop, in the middle of an empty station. He exited onto the middle platform, and was about to head up the nearby stairs when the dim subway lights glinted off of something metal across the gap, on the next platform. Steve stopped dead in his tracks.

Directly in front of him stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with flowing brown hair. His eyes, a steely blue, were glued to Steve's. The man's face was hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering lights, but his form, clad entirely in black, could be made out against the brightness of the opposite wall. A gun was strapped to his waist, still reflecting light.

Any normal man would've been afraid. And so was Steve. But not because there was a mystery man staring at him from across the platform. 

Steve was scared because there was no mistaking those blue eyes and brunette hair.

"Bucky?"

The name came out more like an quiet, scared noise than anything, and was quickly swallowed up by the whooshing and clanging of an approaching subway. It rolled right past the man on the platform, on to another station. It disappeared as quickly as it had arrived, and Bucky Barnes had disappeared with it.

The subway was cold. As usual. And Steve Rogers was alone, staring into the shadows where his best friend had just been standing. He was in shock.

It was almost like Bucky hadn't been there at all. Almost like he was nothing but a ghost.

☾


	2. screaming at the world

The apartment was warm and inviting, kept clean as an army barracks would be. There were a few pictures here and there but mostly, the walls were blank. The living room had a red leather couch, a coffee table, a TV reflecting the street lights outside, and and a bar that marked the end of the living room and the beginning of a small turquoise-tiled kitchen. There were only two doors, one next to the other; one led to the bathroom, and the other led to the only bedroom.

There was music playing softly from somewhere, and the ghost of the smell of chilli that had been made earlier that day. The fan above the couch spun in rapid circles, and made a clicking sound every time it made a full rotation, its cords swinging and body shaking as if it were going to fly off the ceiling at any moment.

Steve sat there underneath the ceiling fan, hunched over a picture frame he cradled in his open hands. The photograph inside was worn and clearly very old: a black and white rendition of two men laughing, arms across each other's shoulders, ice cream cones in their hands. Behind them, a ferris wheel towered over the Coney Island boardwalk.

He had been staring at that picture for hours, maybe, when his phone started buzzing in his pocket. Steve didn't answer at first, hoping that it would stop, or at least that he would wake up, and the whole thing would be nothing but a dream. But when the phone didn't stop buzzing, and he didn't wake up, he let the picture frame rest on his knee, and pulled his phone from his pocket. He answered it without checking the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Steve? It's Nat."

There was a long pause while Steve processed slowly.

"Are you okay?" She prompted.

"Yeah," he said quickly, snapping back into reality. "Yeah, I'm alright. Everything going well?"

"Banner briefed me on the assignment. I figured I'd talk to you before making any plans..."

"I... I don't know, Nat. I was kind of hoping you'd take the lead on this one." The exhaustion was evident in his voice.

"Alright. Well, I figured we should start by just making a list of suspects. You know, the basics. Cross-reference alibis to see if they have one for any of the murders. The victims may have all been killed with the same gun, but that doesn't mean it was one guy.

"This case reeks of Hydra. So, I was thinking we use a little 'persuasion' to get some answers out of--"

Steve was trying to listen. He really was. But it felt as if the men in the photograph were boring holes in his skull. And the more he stared back, the more he could feel the cold wind rushing by his face, and gravity tugging at his heavy form as he leaned from the side of the train, reaching. The more he stared at the man in the right, the easier it was to see those steely blue eyes plummit towards the ground, still watching him, crying out.

"Steve?" Hearing his name nearly made him jump.

"Yeah?"

"I said, are you sure everything is okay?"

"Nat...I...I saw something earlier tonight."

The silence on the other end prompted him on.

"I was about to leave the subway station, when something caught my eye on a nearby platform. There was a man standing there and I... I swear he... He looked just like Bucky."

"Bucky?"

"My--my best friend. From Brooklyn. From way back in the day."

"Walk me through what you saw," she said, keeping her voice level.

"Long brown hair. Blue eyes. I swear they were Bucky's eyes I--I know those eyes. He was standing in the dark, almost like he was hiding. And he was staring straight at me. I didn't see his full face, but..."

"Did he have a metal arm?"

"What?"

"Did he have a metal arm," Natasha pressed, a sense of urgency in her voice.

"No. Why do you ask?" 

"It's nothing. It's just that, your Bucky seems to match the description of a suspect I have. A metal arm would have completed the look."

"I'm pretty sure I would have noticed if he had a metal arm," Steve said, an empty laugh leaving his lips. "It looked like Bucky. Cut the hair off a little, and it would have been him."

"What happened? After you saw him?"

Steve took a deep breath in, trying to focus. It seemed like the world was reeling around him.

"He just...disappeared. This train rolled between us and--and he was gone."

There was a silence that followed, and he could almost hear the gears in Natasha's head turning.

"Are you sure? Steve, I trust you, but you're really tired. And maybe you've just been missing him a lot lately. We all do it: projecting the faces of people we're missing onto other's. It wouldn't surprise me."

Steve sighed heavily, and ran his free hand through his hair, letting it hold the weight of his head.

"Maybe you're right. I've been working too much today. Just need to get some sleep."

"Good idea. Get some rest."

"Alright, thanks Nat."

"No problem. We'll discuss the case in the morning." With that, she hung up.

☾

Steve felt like he had been hit by a truck from the moment he woke up. But, he was able to think with much more clarity, and the events of last night seemed to make more sense. He had just seen a stranger on the platform, and let his imagination run with him. Or at least, that was what he kept telling himself.

The captain jogged lightly to Start tower, weaving in and out of crowds on the busy New York streets. The world passed by in a blur, nothing but colors and sounds and the feeling of a breeze on his face. He watched it move past him, glancing at strangers, and into store windows. He really did enjoy seeing all that was happening in New York; it gave him a feeling of normalcy to be able to have a glimpse into the lives of normal people.

Steve was only a few blocks from the tower when he stopped at a drinking fountain to get some water. He had neglected to grab a bottle this morning, and though his body could handle a run without water, he wanted to stay as healthy as possible. The water felt cool and smooth against his lips, and it was refreshing after nothing but hot, black coffee that morning. He glanced up, catching his breath, and realized that he was right next to a grocery store with massive windows, looking into its shelves. He watched the people mill about, pulling various food items off the shelves. It was relatively empty, compared to how busy the streets were, and there weren't even enough people to fill each isle. In the entire produce section, there were only two people: an elderly woman wearing a vest, sun hat, and bright pink slacks, and---

Bucky.

Before he could register what he was doing, Steve was running into the store. He hurried through the automatic doors, past the rows of carts, and took a sharp left into the produce section. But there was only one other person: the little old lady.

Steve rushed over to where he had seen his best friend standing, looking desperately for any clue as to where he had disappeared to. He reached out, and picked up the produce that Bucky had been eyeing.

A round, purple plum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy! I hope you liked this chapter. Let me know if you have any comments/concerns -- I want to what them!


	3. baby why'd you go away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Avengers work a few angles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here I am, updating again!  
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

The meeting room was chilly and messy, crumpled papers lying everywhere, various file folders and half-eaten snacks strewn about. The conference table was a huge stainless steel thing, with the gold Avengers "A" laser engraved in the center. Whiteboards surrounded the room, and various projectors hung from the ceiling, like in Tony's lab, that could project holograms anywhere in the room.

The Avengers were arguing over the best course of action, and Steve sat there, listening. He hadn't mentioned seeing Bucky yet. It seemed like some sort of dream, and he didn't want to distract from the mission. Clint and Tony were bent on exploring each and every crime scene, Thor wanted to go off looking for the murderer on his own, Bruce wanted to do anything but investigate, and Natasha insisted on questioning an old Hydra agent. It shouldn't matter, really, because there were plenty of Avengers to split up amongst tasks, but for some reason they just really wanted to argue.

Steve continued to mull over the events of the past 24 hours, trying to find some clue about what had really happened. It didn't really make any sense. What had he seen in the subway station? And at the grocery? Was it really Bucky? Or something else? Maybe just his imagination? If it was Bucky, how was he alive? And why didn't he recognize Steve?

"Steve?"

The super soldier whipped his head up, realizing that the room was now silent. Natasha stood in front of him, a concerned look on her face.

"Yes?" 

"Are you okay?" She prompted, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, I was... Well I was thinking. Why don't we all just split up and do our own thing? We have enough people, and we'll get things done faster."

Everyone looked at Natasha worriedly, and Steve wondered why.

"That's what I've been suggesting for the past twenty minutes," she nodded, glaring at the men in the room.

"Right!" Steve said quickly, landing his hands-on his thighs. He stood up abruptly, trying to restore any sense of dignity he had left. "Let's do it, then!"

Team members nodded one by one, and left in small groups. Nat stayed behind.

"What happened there?" She asked.

"I...I don't know." Steve scratched his head, refusing to look her in the eyes. "I just spaced out, I guess."

"Look." She had his full attention now. "I don't know what you saw last night. But whatever it is, it's probably connected to these murders. The probability of you seeing a dead ex-boyfriend-"

"He wasn't-"

"I'm not finished. The probability of you seeing your dead ex-boyfriend the night you are placed on an internationally-known case is very, very slim. Whoever is behind this is trying to distract you. You need to stay on top of them."

Steve nodded, then quickly changed the subject before the assassin could prod more.

"You said, the night that it happened, that the man I saw matched the description of a suspect of yours. Who is this suspect?"

Tasha's eyebrows moved as she resigned herself to dropping the subject of Steve's distraction. "Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited for over two dozen assassinations in the last 50 years."

"A ghost story."

"Five years ago I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran, somebody shot at my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff, I pulled us out, but the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer, so he shot him straight through me." Natasha ripped her black turtleneck up, revealing a bubbling scar next to her belly button. "A Soviet slug, no rifling. Bye-bye bikinis."

"Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now." Steve joked, trying not too stare too long at the scar. His chuckle came out as nervous laughter.

"Going after him is a dead end," she continued, "I know, I've tried. Like you said, he's a ghost story. The only reason I brought him up is that he would be just the kind of man to do this. Seven murders, sniped from seemingly random locations, with no trace of the murderer in sight? I only know one man who can do that."

"Then how about we find him?" Steve asked, and began gathering his papers into a file folder on the conference table. Natasha lowered her shirt, and continued, an irritated expression on her face. Or, at least, what Steve thought was an irritated expression. It was hard to tell with her.

"We can't. I told you. And even if we could, even if he's a part of these murders, he's not the man that you saw last night."

"You asked me if he had a metal arm. The Winter Soldier has a metal arm, doesn't he?"

"Yeah."

There was a pause while Steve tried to find a clearing in the questions and thoughts that clouded his mind.

"We can't find the Winter Soldier." Natasha began helping him gather his papers "But we can work with what leads we have. If they're good, and he's really behind these murders, we'll be lead straight to him. But until then, we follow the breadcrumbs."

Steve raised a questioning eyebrow, taking the loose papers from her hands and adding them to the Manila folder.

"We ask a few choice questions of an old Hydra agent," she clarified, and offered one last stony glance before she left the room, heels clicking across the floor. He watched her walk past the windows of the conference room before sinking into the chair he had gotten out of just minutes ago. His head fell into his hands, propped up by his elbows on the table.

The super soldier serum had affected his brain, too, which meant he could make analytical decisions in a fraction of the time any normal man could. But at that moment, he found that he could barely think at all. Everything moved through his mind so slowly. It felt like he was trying to walk through the mud back at boot camp, combat boots sticking into the mud, rain making harsh noises on his tin helmet, drill sergeant yelling orders above the lightning and thunder. 

☾

They had arranged to meet their contact on a bridge in Central Park. The old man, with mutton chops and a slick black vest, jeans, and Crocs, was short and round, with a hard face. He seemed to be perpetually scowling, which cut deep grooves all along his visage.

"Hello, Mr. Müller," Steve stepped forward, offering his hand. The man shook it firmly. Natasha stayed back.

"I heard you needed something from me?" There was something mildly friendly in that tone, like he genuinely didn't mind helping out.

"Yes." Nat said and remained steady, keeping eye contact, never moving. "We need to know if Hydra ever dabbled in cloning."

The Müller's eyebrows shot up, and a look of mild shock opened the creases in his forehead.

"I can tell you, I don't know much. All I know is, there was one lab trying to replicate genetics, and they failed. They were disgraced and removed from Hydra. Never heard about them after that."

"Are you sure about that?" Tasha prompted, her gaze never faltering.

"Yes," was the simple reply. It was obvious the man was telling the truth. He had been reliable on multiple occasions, and had nothing to loose.

"Can you tell us the location of the lab?" Steve asked.

"I can send it to you. It's in the mountains, way up near their tops. It's been abandoned for nearly a century. The only reason I know about it is because I had to clean old records. It was secret from the world, and most of Hydra."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you who THINK you know what's going on, pay attention to the details! The answer may surprise you.  
> I hope you all liked this chapter! Let me know what you think in the comments, and have a lovely day!   
> ♥️


	4. i'm still your girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The HYDRA lab turns out to be something... unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful readers!! I hope you're all enjoying your time off!  
> I just got a laptop (about time, am I right?), so typing and getting stories done is a lot easier. No guarantee that I'll be putting out more work (because I'm doing a lot), but I'll try!  
> Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

The mountains were cold. And if he wasn't careful, and his eyes fluttered downward for just a moment, Steve would be back on that train, watching his best friend fall to his death. Natasha was there the whole time, silently nudging him forward. Their treck wasn't an exceptionally long one, and it wasn't below freezing, but the wind howling and the sight of snow falling past them to the ground below made it feel like they had been up there for hours. It was like standing in a snow globe, watching the wind toss snowflakes around, into drifts and down the mountain. Steve shivered. He wanted this to be over.

As they turned a corner, a dark blot against the cliffs appeared. It was still a good fifty feet away, but the pair could just make out the massive steel door. With a new pep in his step, Steve surged forward, desperate to be inside, where his memories didn't haunt him. Natasha followed, retrieving a small disk from the bag at her side. She held it in front of the door, and it clicked into place.

"Thanks Stark," she murmered, pushing a button, and they both stepped back a few feet. The disk clicked and whirred and buzzed, different sections detaching as it spun around.

"Destruction sequence deemed ideal solution." FRIDAY's voice was nearly lost in the wind. "Confirm?"

"Confirm." Steve agreed, and the pair jogged around the corner. There was a loud POP, like a gunshot, and when they turned the corner again, the door was nothing but rubble.

Steve and Natasha made their way isnide, down a long hallway with reflective steel walls. Upon entering, bunker lights flickered on from their positions in the ceiling.

"That's funny," Natasha commented as they approached the end of the hallway. The next door, which should have been shut and sealed, lay bent and broken on its side next to them. "Something was trying to get out," she realized.

"In all of the HYDRA outposts we've visited, how many had broken doors?" Steve asked, but he knew the answer. None. 

A single door might not do much to stop Earth's Mightiest Heroes, but it was still HYDRA protocol to shut everything down before leaving a base. Often, they would completely clear it out, or even blow it up. This was new.

The lights in the next room turned on when the pair stepped through the threshold tentatively, onto a set of stairs, hands on the weapons at their sides. This new room was large and open, spread out in an octogon. It probably extended some fifty feet upward, and one hundred in diameter, Steve mused. All around its sides, there were massive steel steps upholstered with blood red cushions. And in the middle, under a massive flourescent light, was a single table, littered with medical supplies. And next to it, a bed with thick leather straps attached to its sides in five places. Just enough for two arms, two legs, and a head. The last time he had seen a bed like that was in the HYDRA base he rescued Bucky from so many years ago.

"It's an arena," Natasha said, echoing Steve's thoughts. This wasn't the lab they were expecting.

They stepped down the stairs and into the middle, taking in every detail. Not that there was much detail to take in; like all other HYDRA stations, it was realtively plain and sterile-looking. The table with its miscellaneous medical supplies yielded only a few test tubes, needles, and a black box, all covered in a greenish film. Upon closer examination, Steve realized that the black box was actually a computer. Nat swung her bag off her shoulder, and pulled out gloves and plastic bags of varying sizes to collect the materials. One by one, they placed everything in small baggies, then in her satchel. Finally, Natasha pulled out a pair of tweezers and a single, small bag, and approached the bed. She inspected it closely, before plucking something invisible to Steve's eye off the strap where a head would be placed, and stuffing it in the bag. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"A hair," she explained, shouldering her satchel. He nodded.

They took one last look at the arena, with its clean steel walls and blood-colored cushions, and collectively shuddered.

"What kind of base," Steve said quietly, "has one door to enter and exit, and only an arena inside?" 

It was eerie, to say the least. Most outposts had tens or even hundreds of hallways that extended underground, which locked and sealed doors at the end of each, and more rooms than could be counted. This was unlike anything they had ever seen. 

"Why," he continued, "would they need something like this?"

His question hung in the still air, barely an echo to remind anyone that it had been asked. There was something very wrong here.

☾

Natasha sat hunched over a shiny new laptop, typing away. Steve watched silently, lost in this new world of tech. He had just begun to drift away, when she let out a satisfied sigh.

"Here we go," she said, and suddenly a video feed popped up on the screen. It was the subway, during the night, virtually empty.

"This was from the night you first saw Bucky, or whoever it was. It's set thirty minutes before you exited the train."

The video quality was poor, and most of the line of sight was blocked by something that looked suspiciously like rat excrement, but the view from the ticket machine was clear enough that Steve could make out both the platform he had stood on, and where he assumed Bucky had been standing.

The two watched in silence, but nothing happened. They watched for an hour, and not a single thing showed on the camera. Trains passed, but none ever stopped.

"Are you sure this is the right station? You should have showed up half an hour ago."

"Yes. I always take the same train through the same stops."

Natasha checked the subway schedule in line with the footage and, sure enough, Steve's train should have stopped while they were watching. In fact, multiple trains should have stopped.

"Someone tampered with the security cameras," she realized. It was a dead end.

"What about the grocery store footage?" Steve suggested hopefully.

But, once again, the cameras came up clean, with an abnormal amount of inactivity.

"Steve," Nat began, leaning back in Tony's office chair that she had stolen for the break room, "I wasn't sure before. I thought maybe all of the missions and long nights were getting to you but," she said, shaking her head slowly, "why would someone want to hide if nothing happened?"

There was a pause where they were both lost in thought. While Natasha's eyes bored holes in the monitor, Steve's wandered towards the break room window. He could just barely see Central Park, with its bare trees reaching for the sky. He remembered the one time he and Bucky had visited the park in the winter after catching a trolley. They had found a trash can lid half buried in the snow, and used it to sled down every hill in sight. They had been barely teenagers then, trying to feel alive as their worlds crumpled around them. Losing people wasn't easy, but for a moment, all that had mattered was them, the trash can lid, and the snowy hills.

"Why would someone want to catch my attention like that, and then hide? If they wanted to send a message, why wouldn't they let everyone see?" His question must have caught Natasha off guard, because she took a moment to gather her thoughts and respond.

"I don't know, Steve. All I know is, this is a lot bigger than we thought."

They were broken from their reverie when Tony burst through the door, untied tie flying around his neck, coffee-stained button-down revealing he hadn't slept in awhile.

"You guys are gonna like this. Or, not like this. It doesn't really matter. We have some interesting information."

When nothing but silence met him, Stark continued.

"The DNA on the hair from the outpost you just visited? It matches perfectly with each of the victims."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say a big THANK YOU to you all! I have received so many kind comments on my works as of late, and it really makes me feel so loved and appreciated. I couldn't do this without you!


	5. holding on too tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theories and solutions bounce around, but in the end, maybe things aren't as they seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beautiful readers! I hope you're all doing well.  
> I'm sorry it's been a little bit since I've updated, but I've focused in on my other murder mystery fic ("when our world turns upside down"), and so I've just written very little for this one.  
> Anyway, I don't know if you've realized, but every chapter title has been a line from the song "Dancing With Your Ghost" by Sasha Sloan (?) because I'm trash at writing chapter titles.  
> I hope you enjoy!!

The conference room was loud as usual, but with more trash laying around, evidence of the long hours the Avengers had spent working on the case. Tony and Bruce were hunched over a tablet in the corner next to a potted ficcus, speaking back and forth in gibberish that sounded suspiciously like science, Nat and Clint were standing in front of the whiteboard where images of the victims were projected, and Thor sat passed out in the chair next to Steve, snoring loudly. According to Tony, he had lost a bet and taken some dubious old pills that had been sitting behind the fridge for a long, long time. The team continued talking and moving around the room (minus Thor), and Tony had started addressing them, but Steve was too focused to realize.

Bucky's face hovered before his on the computer monitor, and nothing else seemed to really matter in that moment.

"Steve?" Natasha's hand fell gently on Steve's shoulder, and he noticed everyone watching him.

"Sorry." He mumbled, glancing apologetically at each face.

"That's fine," Bruce said, nudging Tony with his elbow. "We'll just start over, won't we, Tony?"

Tony sighed. "So, you confirmed this is the man you saw at the station. We ran the old pictures of Barnes through the computer, and found a present-day match, which would be the man you see before you now."

Steve's eyes refocused on the computer screen, studying the man's features closely. As he did, he noticed little scars and irregularities that Bucky never had. Odd.

"This man," Bruce continued for Tony, "is named Harry Stein. He's lived his entire life in Brooklyn, and has a birth certificate and social security card on record. We have photographs from every stage of his life, including yearbooks and any other kind of documentation you could want."

"So, he's not Barnes," Natasha prompted.

"No. But, he works for CrossTech," Tony stated, pressing a button on the conference room table that caused a new set of pictures to pop up on the computer screen. "CrossTech was founded by friends and followers of Darron Cross, an associate of HYDRA. We have good reason to believe that CrossTech is directly linked to HYDRA, but no evidence." Photos of gory animal experimentation, sterile-looking skyscrapers, and men in expensive business suits and sunglasses flashed across the monitor.

"But that's not all," Clint said, stepping forward. "I did a little rooting around--" he yelped when Natasha kicked him swiftly in the shin. "Shit. I mean, Tasha did a little rooting around on the computer you brought back. We found records of every person brought through the base you visited. Or, at least, everyone they kept records of." He broke off, nursing his bruised shin.

"One of the names on the list," Natasha continued unfazed, "was Amelia Stein, Harry Stein's mother. She signed up for voluntary experimentation nine months before Harry was born."

The pieces were beginning to make a little more sense now. 

"So," Tony began, the gears in his head visibly turning, "we have a lab known for experimentation in cloning, a mother who allowed experimentation about the time of conception of a son who just recently showed up on our radar looking just like Bucky Barnes." The team nodded, each lost in their own train of thought.

"Here's my theory." Natasha leaned forward on her heels, eyes trained on Steve alone, who peered on in subdued curiosity. "HYDRA develops a cloning program. They experiment on mothers, who have clone children. We already know that all the murdered clones looked drastically different, so they preform plastic surgery on the victims. Or use hormone supplements, or whatever they need to in order to disguise it. They didn't have the technology to make small mutations in appearance without risking the possibility of a huge failure, so they made small, external changes. There are two problems with this plan: one, they have to find faces to create. No one can just imagine a completely unique face out of nowhere, so they use faces they knew, like Bucky Barnes; two, they run the risk of someone discovering their plan if the DNA was ever compared between subjects. Number two is an easy enough fix; by picking a wide demographic of parents, you can send the kids out into vastly different worlds so their paths never cross. The only problem is, why were they all in New York? Each victim travelled here for a conference, or a meeting, or a family vacation. Why here, and why all at once? Are there many more clones that we don't know of, that have been eliminated in other parts of the world?"

"And," Bruce stepped in, clicking his pen furiously in his hand, "why were they doing this in the first place? Why would they clone children they were going to disguise anyway, only to send them out into the world as normal humans?"

"Because there's something in the original's DNA." Steve declared, standing up. He looked at each of his teammates, watching their eyes trained on him, awaiting his next words. "Is there any way we can use the DNA that we sequenced from the victims to create a picture of what the original person might have looked like?"

Both Tony and Bruce nodded furiously, throwing each other suspiciously nerdy glances that only they could understand.

"Do that, then." Steve directed, and the science bros excused themselves, Bruce with a quiet wave, and Tony with a peace sign.

"What about us, Cap?" Clint asked, throwing an arm around Natasha. It was a dangerous move, but she tolerated it.

Steve was about to respond when FRIDAY spoke over the speaker.

"Captain Rogers, I have been asked to inform you that another victim was recovered by the FBI today and added to your case file due to the fact that his DNA matched the other victims."

"What's his name?" Steve asked, and suddenly the whole room was on alert.

"Harry Stein, sir." They took a collective breath in.

"Anything else we should know, FRIDAY?" Natasha asked, already grabbing her backpack from the corner of the conference room, ready to go.

"It appears that this murder was very different from the others. Committed at close range with a knife, two stabs in the chest. The body was left behind instead of being hidden. And, they know who killed him. It was his mother."

"I'm sorry, what?" Clint spat.

"Her name is Amelia Stein, sir. I believe you had just recently mentioned her in relation to the case?"

"Yeah," Steve breathed, "we did."

The plot just got a lot thicker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this story is probably going to end up being a series, I don't know. We'll see.  
> I hope you all liked it!! I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments!


	6. head up in the clouds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. The truth is revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my beauties!!   
> This is the LAST CHAPTER of this story. I hope you enjoy it!  
> Thank you for all the support I've received on this!! I love you guys!!

Previously...

" _Here's my theory." Natasha leaned forward on her heels, eyes trained on Steve alone, who peered on in subdued curiousity. "HYDRA develops a cloning program. They experiment on mothers, who have clone children. We already know that all the murdered clones looked drastically different, so they preform plastic surgery on the victims. Or use hormone supplements, or whatever they need to in order to disguise it. They didn't have the technology to make small mutations in appearance without risking the possibility of a huge failure, so they made small, external changes. There are two problems with this plan: one, they have to find faces to create. No one can just imagine a completely unique face out of nowhere, so they use faces they knew, like Bucky Barnes; two, they run the risk of someone discovering their plan if the DNA was ever compared between subjects. Number two is an easy enough fix; by picking a wide demographic of parents, you can send the kids out into vastly different worlds so their paths never cross. The only problem is, why were they all in New York? Each victim travelled here for a conference, or a meeting, or a family vacation. Why here, and why all at once? Are there many more clones that we don't know of, that have been eliminated in other parts of the world?"_

_"And," Bruce stepped in, clicking his pen furiously in his hand, "why were they doing this in the first place? Why would they clone children they were going to disguise anyway, only to send them out into the world as normal humans?"_

_"Because there's something in the original's DNA." Steve declared, standing up. He looked at each of his teammates, watching their eyes trained on him, awaiting his next words. "Is there any way we can use the DNA that we sequenced from the victims to create a picture of what the original person might have looked like?"_

_Both Tony and Bruce nodded furiously, throwing each other suspiciously nerdy glances that only they could understand._

_"Do that, then." Steve directed, and the science bros excused themselves, Bruce with a quiet wave, and Tony with a peace sign._

_"What about us, Cap?" Clint asked, throwing an arm around Natasha. It was a dangerous move, but she tolerated it._

_Steve was about to respond when FRIDAY spoke over the speaker._

_"Captain Rogers, I have been asked to inform you that another victim was recovered by the FBI today and added to your case file due to the fact that his DNA matched the other victims."_

_"What's his name?" Steve asked, and suddenly the whole room was on alert._

_"Harry Stein, sir." They took a collective breath in._

_"Anything else we should know, FRIDAY?" Natasha asked, already grabbing her backpack from the corner of the conference room, ready to go._

_"It appears that this murder was very different from the others. Committed at close range with a knife, two stabs in the chest. The body was left behind instead of being hidden. And, they know who killed him. It was his mother."_

_"I'm sorry, what?" Clint spat._

_"Her name is Amelia Stein, sir. I believe you had just recently mentioned her in relation to the case?"_

_"Yeah," Steve breathed, "we did."_

☾

Steve looked on from behind the one-way mirror into the interrogation room, where Natasha sat in front of Amelia Stein. However they had invisioned the HYDRA agent was nothing like the woman who was perched before them. She was poised, every muscle in her body ready to strike, and yet her shoulders slumped forward slightly and she leaned back in her seat as if it were slowly absorbing her. She wore a simple, dark purple blouse and pressed black pants, flats, and a bandana that held the mountain of wavy gray hair from falling on to her face. She wore a soft smile on her face, but her expression was calculated and quiet, its wrinkles still, like they had been etched in stone. Her eyes were a beautiful hazel color, and had the look of someone who was always watching, but never afraid, letting the world pass by in cool indifference. As Natasha spoke, she watched with her chin resting on clasped hands, single strands spilling out of her bandana and over those terrifying green eyes.

"Ms. Stein," Nat began, equally as cool and calculated as the woman who sat before her, "I am here to question you regarding the murder of your son, Harry Stein. I will remind you that you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will," she leaned forward pointedly, "be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney before, during and after questioning, and one will be provided if you cannot afford it."

The woman nodded, slowly, and a slight smile crept onto her face when Natasha paused. That pause was usually left to give the suspect a chance to guiltily confess, or allow them the moment to scream, spit, or yell if they so desired. Natasha Romanoff and Amelia Stein were not very different at all, something that Stein noticed during that pause. She took in a big breath, and opened her painted lips.

"I will tell you everything that I can," she said, her German accent slipping through, "because I know it will drive you up the wall as you attempt to "make things right". I do not know much; HYDRA didn't spill its secrects easily. But I will tell you what secrets they did give me."

There was a pause where her eyes shifted to the viewing window, and Steve swore she made eye contact with him, a light smirk dancing across her parted mouth.

"I was the one who pioneered the extension of the Winter Soldier project," she began, returning her attention to Natasha. "It was a mission to mass produce super soldiers and use them to eliminate enemies of HYDRA, massacring anyone who stood in their way. It was an old idea: everyone has their own special force to protect them and execute their ideas. The United States has many of those. Under the Fuhrer's rule, we had the Gestapo. But HYDRA was not Nazi Germany. We needed something more, and we needed something we could trust. We had already created a super soldier," she paused, and smiled when the energy in the two rooms shifted. The Avengers were all thinking the same thing: HYDRA had a super soldier?

"We already had our weapon," she continued, "and we already had a way to keep him in line. The only problem? He was... complicated. There were too many flaws. Too many ways it could go wrong. And we knew we were running out of time, and S.H.I.E.L.D. was breathing down our necks. But even with his flaws and our own, he was too valuable to throw away. And we couldn't simply start from scratch. Many ideas were tossed about, but none would solve our dilemma. We had managed to create more super soldiers, but it was only a matter of time before they were destroyed. So, I made a proposition. We'd make a versicherung; a down-payment, if you will. We all knew deep down that HYDRA was beginning to fall, and that we would have to hide. We also knew that the greater plan needed insurance for the future. So, I proposed that we store all our work in people."

Steve sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He didn't like this, and he had a feeling she had just begun. The existence of another super soldier program, and the possibility of multiple soldiers running around carrying out the bidding of HYDRA was an intimidating one to say the least.

"They approved of my proposal and, lucky for me, I had the perfect oppurtunity to participate. We collected women who were receptive to HYDRA, and we used them to imbed the DNA of our super soldier into zygotes. We made clones. Though there were small flaws, it was the perfect way to insure we never lost the genetic coding for our super soldier. We could hide all of our research in plain sight. Who would think to look into the very lifeblood of an innocent civilian to find the answer to the legend of the Winter Soldier? We made alterations to each of the children once they were born to make them appear just different enough. Even my own son was altered so that he would look like the Winter Soldier, but upon close inspection, you would think they were two different people, simply doeplegangers in this big world. We sent our clones out to families around the globe, and hid them in plain site. If we had let their mothers raise them, they might fall under suspiscion once it was found out that their parents sympathized with HYDRA."

Steve's brain was whirring furiously.

"Then, we shut the Winter Soldier program down, and waited."

"Thank you, Ms. Stein, for that story. Would you mind answering a few questions?" Natasha's voice was as even as ever, though the entire team was on edge on the other side of the glass. Amelia Stein unclasped her hands, and swept one around the room, gesturing vaugely with a cool smile.

"Why not?"

"Thank you. We visited the supposed cloning lab, and were surprised to find that it consisted of only one room, which was made to be an arena. Would you mind explaining that?"

"We ran tests on the Winter Soldier in that lab. HYDRA invited all of its favorite guests to come and see the marvel of science that was our soldier, perfectly engineered to kill. We designed that lab not only to run tests and preform the surgeries on our volunteer women, but also to exhibit our project."

"Right. When we arrived, the second door had been busted down. Why?'

The woman chuckled softly, as if she were thoroughly enjoying the questioning.

"Our final, show-stopping act was to lock him in there, and watch him break free of the arena. The door was built specifically to retain him in case he went rogue, yet he managed to get through it. Our guests were very impressed."

"This Winter Soldier sounds dangerous. Where is he now?" Another chuckle.

"I'm afraid I don't know that. After our cloning program ended, I disappeared, and stayed out of touch with my colleagues. All that I know about the Winter Soldier I have already told you."

Steve could tell Natasha was growing impatient like the rest of the team because she stopped beating around the bush, and ignored the last comment.

"Who killed the clones? And why? And how were they all in New York at once?" She leaned forward more, challenging Stein, who sat placid as ever across from her.

"My dear, getting our clones to New York was simple. Just an invitation here, manipulation there. The Winter Soldier killed the other clones. We had no need for them now, and it was the fastest way to cover our tracks now that we had shifted gears. What we didn't expect was the Avengers stepping in, or we would have disposed of the bodies sooner."

"What do you mean by "shifting gears"?"

"We extracted the DNA stores in one of our clones to make more soldiers. Don't worry, you won't find them."

There was a pause before Natasha continued unfazed.

"Why wasn't your son killed at the same time? And why did you kill him?"

"We thought we'd have a little fun with our old friend," she said, barely a whisper, and turned her head towards the viewing window. This time, Steve was sure she was looking directly at him.

"Captain America mudered my father. Why not hurt him by giving him hope that his best friend was alive? We'll have his dead body soon enough, but torture is the only path to complete revenge."

He shivered. The woman made eye contact with Nat again, her face still as quiet and stony as when they began.

"I killed my son because our Winter Soldier was needed elsewhere, so someone had to finish the job."

"Finally, why are you telling us this?"

"Like I said, it will drive you up the wall. Each time you discover more about the Winter Soldier project, it will hurt you. Every day, you will spend your time waiting for a super soldier to emerge from the shadows of your nightmares to kill you. And when one of my soldiers does take you down, you will never see it coming, and the team will mourn you, knowing they can do nothing to stop HYDRA. The words were written on the walls long ago, my love. When you fall, no one will rise to take your place. Instead, we will burn you with the very fire that you once loved."

While the team paused to wonder what Stein meant, she smiled, sickly sweet, and shifted her jaw before closing it with a crunch. When she next opened her mouth, foam spilt out, and clung to the strands of hair that hung around her face.

"Hail HYDRA!" She hissed, and collapsed. Her body hit the floor, and the resounding thud echoed through the halls of the compound.

There was a long pause afterwards. Natasha's eyes were glued to the body, as were the rest of the team's. Amelia Stein's lifeless eyes stared right back with a smile.

"This may be a bad time," Tony said over the intercom, "but we've reconstructed what the original Winter Soldier looks like based on the DNA of the clones. And you're not going to like it."

Within the following weeks, the team would know what Amelia Stein had meant when she spoke of "the very fire that you once loved". The message she had delivered, they realized, was not meant for them. It was meant for Steve. Because as the Avengers' allies fell at the hands of the Winter Soldier, as they hunted him down, never quite catching him, as the nations of the world grew dangerously close to HYDRA, Steve's face when he saw Tony Stark's rendering of the blueprint soldier was burned into the team's minds. Because when the 3D image of the Winter Soldier appeared in a hologram, there would be no doubt in anyone's mind that the man they were looking for was James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky was very much alive.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you liked the first chapter in my story.  
> I'm not sure if I'll be continuing this, so no promises. But, if I get enough comments and subscriptions, and people enjoy it, I will keep on writing it.  
> Please let me know what you think of this first chapter! I'd love to hear your feedback or comments. Thank you!


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